Marvel: Father of Superheroes

Support me and be 30 chapters ahead of webnovel:

patreon.com/Draco_

*****

"No way!"

After hearing what Odin wanted from him, Mike rejected the request outright.

Watch another kid for him?

What a joke—did he think this was a daycare?

Thor was picked up by Clark, so Mike had reluctantly agreed to look after him.

But now Odin wanted to dump Loki here too?

Really?

Did this guy seriously think his place was a foster home?

Odin said quietly, "I won't let you help for nothing."

"What's in it for me?"

Mike's curiosity was piqued.

"You'll gain the friendship of Asgard."

"I don't already have that?"

Mike looked at Odin with mock indignation and said, "Thor's been staying with me for so long, and I still haven't earned your friendship?"

Odin's weathered face showed no emotion, but after a moment of thought, he quietly said, "Fine. I'll have the dwarves of Nidavellir forge you a weapon. How about that?"

"A weapon?"

"One of legendary craftsmanship!"

"I suppose that's acceptable."

Mike agreed, grudgingly.

The two old men exchanged a knowing look and chuckled.

The deal was sealed.

"But I want to choose the type of weapon," Mike added.

"No problem," Odin nodded calmly.

"So, when is your other child arriving? And his powers…"

"His powers will be sealed, just like Thor's."

Mike nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Then what are the conditions for him to regain his powers and be recognized?"

Odin murmured a few words, and the two began quietly discussing the type of weapon Mike wanted.

As for why Odin was here in the first place?

Just like Mike had guessed—he was simply worried about Thor.

A father who hadn't seen his son in a long time, coming to check on him out of concern—that was perfectly natural.

While Mike and Odin chatted, Thor walked out holding a plate of fried rice.

Seeing how cheerfully the two were talking, Thor set the plate in front of the old man and muttered, "Old folks always find other old folks to chat with."

Odin and Mike: "?"

"Try it," Thor said, handing a spoon to Odin. "It should taste good."

He'd already tried it himself and thought it was excellent.

Odin took a bite and gave a slight nod.

It was indeed quite good.

Maybe because his son made it, Odin thought this fried rice was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

Still, he hadn't forgotten his true purpose here:

To test Thor—to see how much he had changed.

So he quickly shoveled a few spoonfuls into his mouth, then exaggeratedly spat it out and scowled. "This is awful! How can you eat this garbage?"

Thor's smile froze. Gritting his teeth, he growled, "You crusty old man, show some respect!"

Odin: "!"

Why was he so angry all of a sudden?

He'd made worse remarks before and gotten away with it.

Odin blinked. Mike secretly gave Thor a thumbs-up.

Nice one—daring to talk back to Odin like that!

Thor slammed his hands on the table and leaned in with an intimidating posture, towering over Odin. "You can insult me—but you can't insult my fried rice!"

"?"

Odin was stunned.

Was this really Thor?

Seeing the old man's stunned face, Thor sighed with a sorrowful expression. "You wouldn't understand."

"Understand what?" Odin asked blankly.

"The only thing I, Thor, am proud of right now… is my cooking skills! What you just did—was an insult to me!"

The only thing he was proud of… was his cooking?

Odin felt his vision blur.

Had this kid thrown away Asgardian pride in favor of… cuisine?

He took a deep breath and couldn't help but ask, "A chef? Don't you have any dreams beyond that?"

"Dreams?" Thor recalled the artistry of Mike's cooking and said longingly, "If I have a dream now… it's to become the God of Cooking."

Odin shouted, "Aren't you the God of Thunder?!"

"And how does that conflict with being the God of Cooking?" Thor replied, frowning in confusion. "Wait—how do you know I'm the God of Thunder?"

Odin pointed at Mike. "He told me!"

Mike: "…"

Thor pondered a moment. "God of Thunder and God of Cooking…"

Murmuring to himself, he broke into a smile. "There's no conflict."

Then he looked at the fried rice, slammed his hand on the table, and shouted, "Eat it! No wasting food! You're all acting like you're starving—being picky now? Starve for all I care!"

"And for the record—my cooking is never bad!"

If it was bad, he wouldn't have served it in the first place!

Odin lowered his eyes and shot Mike a cold look.

"Mike Kent, you—"

"What? You threatening my boss now?" Thor glared at him. "Try me—I'll throw you out myself!"

Mike: (ω)

Odin felt a pounding in his skull.

This kid was beyond saving. Should he even bother leaving Loki here?

While he hesitated, Thor muttered, "Cooking is like living—you have to respect every ingredient, treat it the way it deserves to be treated, blend them with care, and be responsible for every dish you serve."

"That's how you cook. That's also how you live."

"Get it, old man?"

Odin's eyes widened.

Whoa.

Thor had drawn such deep meaning from cooking?

If a dish represented a nation, and the ingredients were its people…

Damn!

Thor's insight was profound!

Suddenly, Odin felt his visit wasn't in vain.

Quietly, he sat back down and began eating.

The taste… was genuinely good.

Thor beamed and looked at Mike.

Mike couldn't help but give him another thumbs-up.

Nicely done!

A few minutes later, Odin finished the last grain of rice, looked up, and said earnestly to Thor, "That was delicious. I'm full."

Thor gave a happy smile, cleaned up the dishes, and pointed at the door. "Good. Now get out! You grumpy old freeloader—you're not welcome here!"

"Pfft!"

Mike couldn't hold back a laugh.

Odin: "…"

You little brat.

We'll talk once you're back in Asgard.

Odin's eyelid twitched violently.

Mike waved Thor off. "Go on, take care of your stuff."

Thor nodded, carrying the dishes as he walked away.

Watching this, Odin felt a pang of sourness in his chest.

Why did Thor listen to Mike so easily?

Thinking back to all their past father-son arguments, he sighed lightly.

"All right then."

Mike clapped the table. "You should leave now, or Thor's going to get suspicious."

Odin nodded and said to Mike, "Come with me. Loki's waiting outside—I'll hand him over to you."

"You're just going to let me take Loki like this?" Mike looked at him, exasperated. "Aren't you basically announcing to everyone that I'm working with you?"

Odin rubbed his forehead. "Then what do you suggest?"

(End of Chapter)